When attending a function prior to the Ryder Cup at Kiawah Island in September 1991, Ian Woosnam was guided towards a chair which carried a card misspelling his name. He promptly picked it up and threw it away in disgust.
arlier that year, he had broken new ground at Augusta National where he brought the Masters to the masses, certainly on this side of the pond. But only five months later, the offending card caused him to snap: “Things like that get up your back.”
It is just about 30 years since Woosnam made his Augusta breakthrough, which was remarkable on a few counts. On his first competitive round there, three years previously, he had carded a dispiriting 81.
Then, after 71 holes in 1991, it seemed likely that a play-off involving Jose-Maria Olazabal and even one or two others, was the best Woosnam could hope for. In the event, the tee-shot on the last became critical.
At a time when the 18th measured 405 yards as opposed to its current 465, the drive remained extremely challenging, with a line of trees tight on the right and two fairway bunkers on the left, involving a formidable carry of 260 yards. Typically courageous, Woosnam decided to take them on.
Given the equipment of the time, it required considerable power, which the pocket-sized Welshman was not short on. Having roused the galleries all weekend, he did so once more, sending the ball clear of the traps and trundling 50 yards down the incline on the extreme left side.
From there, an uphill shot to the green was extremely difficult to gauge. As it happened, where five more yards would have set up a comfortable, two-putt par, he hit an eight iron 140 yards to the left fringe. It meant a second putt of seven feet for the title. He made no mistake, leaving us with a lasting image of his bent right knee and outstretched right fist as the ball dropped gloriously into the cup.
Equally memorable was how he was dressed, in a plain, navy t-shirt over garishly plaid red and navy slacks. Which, as it happened, toned rather well with the green jacket which was eased onto his frame by the relatively giant-like figure of Nick Faldo.
By Woosnam’s own estimation, the long build-up to this, his yearned-for Major triumph, had its beginnings in a simple team event over his home course in Oswestry during a break from tournament golf the previous Christmas. While playing with some friends, he had a stunning 13-under-par 57, having reached the turn with nine successive birdies.
Little more than two months later, on March 3, he retained the Mediterranean Open title. And before March was out, the USF&G event in New Orleans, gave him his first victory on the PGA Tour.
Now, the inevitable trappings attached to realising a life’s ambition seemed a bit strange to him. After dinner at Augusta National on the Sunday evening with club chairman, Hord Hardin, he couldn’t wait to get back to a more relaxed atmosphere in his hotel. Which is where I met him, late in the evening in the company of other scribes.
There, he sat at a table in the famous green jacket that was several inches too long for his 5ft 4.5inch frame. Though not yet tired and emotional, he was clearly headed in that direction, with his shirt collar comfortably open, a Masters tie pulled down, a bottle of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “Maybe I enjoy myself a little too much,” he confessed needlessly. “But why should I pretend to be what I’m not? If I smoke and drink while I’m at home in Oswestry, why shouldn’t I do it here?” Why indeed.
And the ultimate endorsement came from his diminutive wife, Glendryth, for whom the scenes around the 18th were beyond her stature. Were there aspects to her husband which she hoped this magnificent win would change? “Not at all,” she replied. “I’ll be happy to have the same old Woosie.”
For her, things had already changed dramatically from a time when these happenings were beyond his wild imaginings. When, after failing for a third time to get through the European Qualifying School, he had pleaded to his friend, Des Smyth: “How am I going to make a living from this game, Des? I can’t play.”
Or even from 1982, when a breakthrough victory in the Swiss Open was achieved with an old driver he had picked up for £17.
New admirers were made in this country when Smyth, Olazabal, Faldo and Manuel Pinero were tied second behind him in the 1988 Irish Open at Portmarnock. And there were further fans the following year, even when he had the temerity to win a play-off for the title over Philip Walton.
In Augusta on that Masters night in ’91, the press conference exchanges turned inevitably to money. We were informed that bonuses on existing contracts would match the first prize of $243,000. But a further $5.5m would be forthcoming in deals set up by his management company, IMG, who had become used to such arrangements from earlier Masters successes with Bernhard Langer, Sandy Lyle and Faldo.
Still, some irritants remained. With one of those special Woosnam expressions of bemusement, he said: “When I tell people here (America) I’m from Wales, they ask: ‘What part of Scotland is that?’”
Meanwhile, we learned that by way of easing the pain, he was in a position to command upwards of £100,000 for corporate days in these parts. Which made his appearance in the Chris de Burgh Charity Pro-Am at Hermitage, especially interesting, three weeks after Augusta.
He picked up fellow professional and close friend, Peter Baker, in his private plane and came to Dublin to play — for nothing. There wasn’t even prize money on offer. He was simply honouring a promise to his friend, Cecil Whelan, since sadly gone from us.
Indeed during the evening, he promised his irrepressible host that he would return to Ireland the following month for the Christy O’Connor Charity Pro-Am at Killarney. And there was also a commitment to head a charity fourball at Royal Birkdale, where the Open Championship was played that July.
Woosnam’s pro-am slot at Killarney was bought at auction for £12,000 and the Birkdale fourball boosted Whelan’s Links Society funds by a further £25,000. In fact between signed Masters and Ryder Cup menus and flags and various other items, he generated more than £100,000 for the Society, over the years.
All of which made him a very popular Ryder Cup captain when the event came to The K Club in 2006, with Des Smyth filling an entirely predictable vice-captain’s role.
As a triumph for Mr Everyman, two shots that Woosnam highlighted from his Augusta success, could hardly have been more appropriate. They were shots that every club player, however ordinary, would have executed on countless occasions through a golfing life.
“I had two crucial putts on Sunday,” he said, “both of around seven feet. The first was for a par on the 16th where I knew if I missed, I was dead. You stand on a putting green, practising and practising and wonder what it’s all for.
“The answer comes when you get down to the situations I found myself in over those closing holes. The one on 18: right lip. Now, this is for the Masters. This is the time you’ve got to do it. You’ve got to show your bottle . . . And it went in.”
